No immediacy to what has escaped
It's run back down hill
Sisyphus so old he can't chase
They'll be no more pushing up
Except for daisies
So plant it here
Next to me, Big Rock
We've rolled enough
And never got up that great big hill
In any case, I get nosebleeds
When I'm that high
We might just as well be happy
With the ruts we've created
Perhaps we've made it easier
For the next guy